


Plots to Steal a Mattress, Throw Some Pens, and Jump from a Plane

by 8ami



Series: Garrett & Cal [5]
Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Canon Gay Character, Coming Out, Epic Bromance, M/M, Pan!Garrett, Pansexual Garrett Laughlin, Weird Plane Metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-12 10:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15337566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8ami/pseuds/8ami
Summary: Garrett and Bram hang out during the summer, after Garrett's figured out that he's pansexual. He doesn't mean to, but he ends up coming out to his best friend. It's certainly not the worst decision he's made. Actually, it's probably one of the better ones he's made.





	Plots to Steal a Mattress, Throw Some Pens, and Jump from a Plane

**Author's Note:**

> Minor Edits 2/1/19

**Tuesday, June 6th**

I don’t know what it is, but Bram’s bed is so much better than my own. I’ve threatened to steal his mattress on multiple occasions. I’ve done it so often that I think I’ve finally lured him into a false sense of security - he won’t expect it when I actually do steal it. The only fault in my plan is that I’m never going to get far with the mattress before I give into my need to lay on and cocoon myself into the pillow top. I think Bram is counting on my lack of willpower.

It’s why he’s turned to face his computer and not watching me as I toss a baseball up at the ceiling, playing catch, as I lay back on his bed. I want to spite his lack of concern, but I also want to live here in the soft, clean, wonderful bed.

“This time is it. For real.” I tell him. He at least looks over his shoulder at me for a moment before turning away again with a shake of his head. I’m like ninety percent sure he’s talking to Spier - facebook or maybe that email thing still. They’re both such romantic saps that I could totally see them doing that even after getting together.

“What are you going on about?”

“Your mattress,” I explain around my dry throat. It makes me feel a little weird having to explain that. It really isn’t that odd, but the notion is backlit in a strange light due to the fact that this is probably the first time since summer started that we’ve hung out on our own.

It’s not like we haven’t been texting, staying up to date with each other, or hanging out in groups - with Simon and Nick, their friends or guys from the soccer team - but outside of that, it hasn’t been just us. Between Bram’s first boyfriend, first real relationship that totally feels like end game, Bram’s new sibling on their way, my situation with Cal Price and his pretty face, and me freaking out about this whole I’m-not-straight-but-pansexual-thing that usually ends with me hiding out in my room - well, lets just say we’ve both been busy.

So maybe I’m just overthinking things. Maybe it’s not really awkward between us. Maybe I’m just feeling guilty for not talking to him about my ‘sexual identity crisis’ as Cal calls it. It’s kinda silly that I’m not, really. If anyone is going to understanding coming out it’s going to be Bram. And yet those words keep dying on my tongue on their way to my lips.

I don’t tell him now, just like I didn’t tell him yesterday or the day before that or even after the cast party he dragged me to or even before that. I don’t tell him that I’m scared. I just toss the baseball up and let it fall back down into my bare hands. It was easier not to face these thoughts when I was busy with school. The summer gives me too much time. Honestly, I can’t wait to go out and stay with my sister at the beginning of next month, only a week away. Not only do I get to see my nieces and go mudding on ATVs with my brother-in-law, but I also get away from my crisis, my silence, and my parents.

“Hey, man, are you listening?” Bram asks throwing a pen at my face. I jump and the ball I’m throwing up comes down while I’m distracted hitting me in the chest. I groan and glare at Bram as he laughs. “Sorry. But did you hear me?”

I realize he’s turned his chair completely around to face me. “No,” I admit, short at the distraction, at the lack of attention on my part, at the baseball for missing my hand.

He pauses for a moment and when he asks, “Where were you just now?” I’m convinced that that wasn’t what he had asked before. I think he might have continued our conversation about the mattress, as that would make sense, or if I was a betting man maybe something that involves Spier. But I can’t be for sure, no, the only thing I can really know for sure is that he’s asking about me and he has this little pinch around his left eye that he gets when he’s concerned.

“Thinking is all.”

“Careful now.” He grins and I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can’t find the energy to return it. Bram frowns and leans towards me in his chair. “No, seriously, Garrett. What’s going on with you? I know we haven’t gotten to talk much lately, but I’m here if you need something. You know that, right?”

And dammit, he looks guilty and worried and I really don’t want his concern even if I need it.

“I know.” And it feels like I’m saying that a lot, or think it, at least. I know I can come to Bram, but that knowledge is on the surface of my skin, prickling but unable to get down to my bones. I know it, but I don’t feel it. I wonder not for the first time if Bram felt like this before he came out. I almost ask him. “I know and vice versa, of course.” Bram nods his agreement and that both makes me feel better and like I’m fucking drowning so I look away.

Before he came out to me as gay, we didn’t talk about real stuff. I hadn’t noticed it honestly. I really did believe we were good. Like when I first read that Tumblr post, Bram put up, the very first one about feeling isolated, I thought about how lonely whoever it was that put that up must feel, how at least it's not one of my friends who felt that way. And then in one afternoon in last January, I learned that not only was my best friend gay, had known for years, was in love with Spier, sure that he had screwed that up, but that he was also the guy that wrote that lonely frickin' post. I didn’t just get knocked off my high horse, but the whole damn mountain.

I think it’s probably that, missing all of that, is the reason why I don’t believe Bram when he says I pay attention to people. Because how could he mean that when I didn’t even notice my best friend was struggling?

That confession, though, it made talking easier, more important, between us. Bram felt more at ease with me and I wasn’t going to let him down again. And yet, here I am feeling like I’m taking steps backwards in regards to us talking.

“Garrett - ” He starts and I think he’s going to tell me it’s okay so I cut him off.

“Do you know what my first thought was when you came out to me?” I know he doesn’t. I can’t see his face but I’m betting he looks less concerned and more nervous now like I might tell him something bad. Which is stupid but I can also understand. “I thought how the fuck did I miss that? Not the gay thing - but how secluded you felt. I kept wondering what I could have done differently, you know to make you feel less like that.

But I realize it really wasn’t about me or what I did or didn’t do, huh? You tell me that all the time - not everything’s about me. I mean, you were just scared. Logic or truth or whatever it is, that doesn’t make that whole thing any less scary.” I think he’s waiting for me to continue, to say more, but I’m not even sure where those words came from let alone how to figure out where to find more.

“You’re a good guy, Garrett. A good friend.” He sounds like he means that. It hits me like a train leaving me all teary-eyed and heavy, disconnected and disbelieving to be walking away still breathing. “You’re right. It wasn’t about what you did or didn’t do. It was about me being okay with people knowing. Allowing that change into my life. I already had enough against me for being black, I didn’t want to add to that. But by doing that, hiding it, I wasn’t being me.”

“And Spier helped you with that? Being okay with that?” I breathe out, shaky.

Bram is quiet a heartbeat too many. I don’t know what exactly, but I know something went wrong with that last question. I have to look at him. His brows are pinched and he’s looking at me like he’s trying to get into my brain. I’m not sure if he wants to read it or eat it.

“Is that what this about? Are you jealous or hurt that Si helped me when I didn’t let you?”

“What? No - oh god no.” I scramble to sit up, as I shake my head and my hands at him. “No that’s not it at all. Dude, I don’t care who helped you I’m just glad you’re happy. I mean, I feel bad that I couldn’t help, but I’m not upset that it was Spier or whatnot, and like I said it’s not about me - your coming out thing.” I try to make my words sound as I intend them: sure, real, but my chest is a little tight from the whole train thing and I’m not sure he gets it.

“Oh,” and he kinda deflates in relief. "Good. Good, cause that would have been a real dick move...but, um, if that isn’t it - what is this about?”

I don’t say anything, but he has more patience than I do. Besides, I feel like I need to give him something so that he really knows, truly understands, this isn’t about Spier or him coming out or me being jealous or anything of the like that really.

“That lonely feeling, that being scared despite knowing it will be okay. I want to tell you something, and I know you’ll be okay with it, but I’m still scared.” My voice is a little wobbly and I hate that. At least I don’t look away from him even if I really want to bury my face in my hands and forget about everything including this moment.

“What are you scared of?”

“What were you scared of?” I counter. He looks like he’s putting together the puzzle I’ve laid out for him, but he’s hesitant to glue the pieces together.

Slowly, tasting the words, “Garrett, are you trying to tell me your gay?”

“I’m trying to tell you I’m not straight.”

I manage to get out, but my chest is still tight. I feel like I'm still on the edge of this, trying not to look down before I actually make the jump out of a plane - off of something I'm not hundred percent sure I'll survive jumping from.

“Oh. Well, that’s okay.”

I’m not sure what to say to that. I don’t think he knows what to say either. I’m trying to remember how things went down when he came out to me. I don’t remember it being this awkward. Maybe it was on his side of things though.

“Pansexual.” I finally say, quiet and tired. “I think that’s the word I’m going to use.”

“You don’t have to make a decision on it if you aren’t sure.” That sounds a lot like what Cal has been telling me. But this is something I’ve thought about a lot. Something I think is right. It’s not the word that’s sitting heavy on my chest making me worried I'm going to fall faster than my parachute will open.

“I know. But that’s the right word.” I try to sound assuring, I don’t know if I succeed. He leans back in his chair now, regarding me with something that I can’t really make sense of. It’s lighter though, so at least there's that. It makes me feel better, seeing him relax some.

“Well first, it doesn’t matter to me what word you use. You’re still my best friend.” I didn’t realize I needed to hear that, but my eyes are all watery again. I curse as I rub at my eyes. “Second, that not-date date that might have been serious you went on at the beginning of the summer - was that with a guy?”

Oh, I didn’t expect him to make that connection. I had kinda thought he forgot about that conversation.

I need dumber friends. Or more forgetful ones.

“Son of a bitch...” I fucking laugh, it’s wet but feels right as this wave of relief crashes through me. My best friend has the nerve to look like he’s enjoying this. He leans forward and claps me on the back. “Uh...yeah...it was.” I pull short of a breath that makes me cough a little violently but alive.

When I come back to, Bram still has his lips pulled up into a soft grin, but there’s a pinch around his eyes. “You make it sound like that’s a bad thing, Garrett.” Really, he needs to stop being so on the ball while I'm floundering over here.

“It’s not a bad thing. Not really. It’s just, well I’m still trying to get my head around this more.”

“Does that mean, you’re still not seeing that guy?”

It kinda feels like we could be talking about any of my many crushes over the last few years. Almost. Almost except for the fact that my eyes are still wet and I can’t remember crying over any girl. I remind myself I’m not crying over Cal, not specifically anyway.

“No that’s not what it means. I’m still talking to him.”

Bram smiles for a second and then goes quiet for a second, bites his lip before asking, “This guy...he’s not like pressuring you - to like come out or do other... _things?_ ” Bram looks as uncomfortable as I feel.

“No! Oh my god, no!” I’m so horrified at the thought, at discussing this, that I’m no longer scared or feeling like I should cry. I think I’d prefer to be crying. “It’s nothing like that. He’s nothing like that. He’s fine - great even. Saint level of understanding. I swear.” I rush to try to get that across, all frantic and wide-eyed over that half second of gut-punching sensation one gets when their chute opens as the air catches it, jerking you up.

“Good. good. Good.” Bram’s not meeting my eyes, but I don't really want him to. Then a little less awkward, a little more okay, “I was worried I was gonna have to beat someone up.”

“Like you would.” I laugh sharply around a smile still coming down from panic and worry. Bram isn’t that much of a fighter; sure he can be intimidating when he wants to be - I mean, just ask Martin - but if one of us is going to get into a fight it’s probably going to be me. Still, it’s nice to hear that he has my back in theory.

Bram throws another pen at me, “I totally would. You know to defend your honor!”

“To defend my honor? Spier’s your boyfriend, dude, not me.” I toss the pen back at him and reach back for my baseball if not the pen he threw at me earlier for more ammo.

“Well, yeah, but you’re my best friend.”

And that’s nicer to hear than it should be considering I already know it.


End file.
